Chapter 21 Sam

I was there early, but that was by design. I'd gotten into a decent meditation before I left work; however, the only wisdom I'd gained from my guides and my subconscious was to follow my intuition. Not that it was terrible advice; it just helped me prepare very little since I did not know how I felt or what I wanted. I at least needed time to get my bearings before I had to sit across from Jesse.

This whole thing was probably a bad idea. Flirting with him, letting him dissolve my grudge... now the only thing my stupid brain would allow me to picture, think about, or imagine was him winking at me or his thumb making circles on my wrist. I shook out my hair and smoothed my pink and purple moon phases skirt of some invisible wrinkles. My eyes had actual make-up that contained some type of very fine pink glitter, and I loved it. I grabbed the happy hour menu to see what looked good.

I felt eyes on me before I saw him. I tried to put out a very forceful leave-me-the-fuck-alone energy, but unfortunately, drunk men didn't tend to respond to subtle energetic shifts. Shocking.

"Hey, there," his voice slurred, closer to me now.

Jesus, it's barely five. How long has this dude been drinking on a weekday?

I looked up to see what might have been a good-looking guy under different circumstances. He had a medium build and a scruffy five o'clock shadow, deep brown eyes, and dark hair that barely curled at the ends. I just raised my eyebrows in response. His eyes were glassy as he leaned onto my table clumsily.

"Aw, don't be rude. I gave you a compliment. Come and dance with me."

While there was technically a small dance floor, there was no music because some type of sporting event was on the one TV in the bar.

"I'm good, thanks." I scanned The Bar for Lauren or Jesse or anyone who might come and interrupt this little scene.

"It's one dance," he stated, his voice turning harsher. "I don't bite. Unless you want."

He grinned at his little cliché innuendo that sounded like it came directly out of a bad porn.

"Oh, but I do. Hard . Whether you want me to or not." I stared pointedly at his crotch, hoping it might shock him enough to leave me the hell alone. I clenched my fist, ready to beeline for the door if it didn't work.

"I mean, if you like it rough—"

"What the fuck are you doing, man?"

Jesse was beside me out of nowhere, his voice tight. His energy felt like trying to open a locked door. It was borderline panicky.

"Heyyyyy, it's Garrett, everybody's favorite has-been." Jesse flinched next to me, though it was almost imperceptible. This was going to be a whole thing. Fuck .

"Go have another shot, bro . If your liver can handle it, anyway. You don't look great."

The guy stood up taller, taking a step back from the table, and I relaxed slightly until his eyes snapped back to me.

"Simmer down, Garrett. All in good fun. I didn't know she was your girl—she's not your normal type."

He made a sad attempt to create an hourglass shape with his hands. I assumed to point out that Jesse normally dated skinny women. "Are you even cleared to lift that much on your knee?"

Assumption confirmed.

He laughed like he had really hit one out of the park. It was disappointing how predictable these men were to go from complimentary to insulting as soon as a woman turned them down.

"The fuck did you just—"

Jesse started toward the other side of the table, and I caught his elbow. They were both built similarly, though Jesse had a few extra inches, and the drunk idiot probably had an extra twenty pounds of beer gut. I was wholly uninterested in seeing a National-Geographic-type-display of masculinity, however.

Jesse looked at where I'd touched him and shot me a questioning look, his anger rolling off him in waves. The asshole laughed again to himself before he turned to walk away. I should have let him go, but I couldn't help myself. It was a gray area, maybe, to read a stranger without being asked.

But didn't he ask for it, though? A little? I thought.

His people were practically shouting at me anyway, so I opened the line of communication. I closed my eyes and let the information come to me.

"If I could... Michael—no, Mike? Mitchell , right? Can I call you Mitch? Great."

I could see his shoulders start to creep up towards his jaw, and I knew I'd at least gotten his attention. Jesse also widened his eyes at me. I raked my fingers through my curls and dropped my shoulders because now I was in my element. My anger lessened slightly while his people bombarded me with details because it was obvious he was struggling. I tried to pick out the most complete information so that I could get this done quickly.

"I'm not going to let my friend hit you because I get that you're having a rough time, and I don't think it would help."

"Who the hell is this bitch?" Mitchell asked Jesse accusingly like he'd somehow set this up.

"I'm Sam, your friendly neighborhood witch. Anyway, you should know that your wife is about one late night away from filing for divorce. And she will, in fact, get the house and full custody of... Flynn? Finley?" My eyes searched his to see if I was getting there.

"Finn." Mitchell's gulp was audible.

Bingo.

"Thanks. Finn. So, my suggestion to you is that you take your ass home and beg for forgiveness. You'll still have a long road ahead of you to get there, but it's a start. Then get yourself a therapist, Mitch, to deal with your daddy issues so that Finn doesn't end up with the same ones, yeah?"

My voice was softer when I ended my impromptu reading because apparently, Mitch's dad had done a real number on him. But at some point, he had to want to heal that wound.

"What the actual fuck?" Mitchell almost whispered, shaking his head and wandering away from our table.

Jesse's expression looked like it might be permanently stuck, so I waved my hand in front of his face.

"You still in there?" He ran his hand through his warm blond hair, and I admired the way his green t-shirt stretched across his chest.

"How did you know that about him? Did I say his name earlier? He was several years ahead of me in school, but I don't think I said—"

"His people told me."

"His people . That sounds like he has a PR team. Who are his people?"

"His guides. Spirit-type entities. Whatever."

"So, his people just told you all that shit about him. While we were all standing here."

"It's really not such a huge thing, and I'd really like a drink because that was a lot of energy."

"I will get you ten drinks if you want them because you're a little scary, Sam Marsh. But then, you explain the people, okay?"

He raised his eyebrows at me for reassurance, and I just sighed and nodded. The ten drinks might have been overkill, though. I tried to hide a smile a few minutes later when I saw Mitchell getting into the passenger side of a minivan in the parking lot.

"I'm here!" Lauren said, falling onto the barstool next to me just as Jesse got back with our drinks. Mine was something pretty and purple, and it looked delightful.

"It's called a Witch's Brew, so you needed it," he said, grinning at me but then shooting a slightly annoyed glance at Lauren for interrupting his expected TedTalk on my intuitive abilities.

"Oh, I might want one too," she said. "What'd I miss?" Jesse and I made eye contact, and I just barely shook my head at him. He just mouthed later to me, letting me know I wasn't off the hook.

"Not a lot. Just got here, really."

"Perfect. Also, I invited Jeremy. He'll be here in a minute."

"Where were you that you invited Jer?" Jesse asked, a slightly suspicious edge creeping into his voice.

"I cut his hair this afternoon. Calm down." She rolled her eyes at her brother, but I saw the slight blush appear on her cheeks and knew it wasn't just a haircut. I pocketed that information for later. "Also, killer skirt. Obsessed," Lauren added, even though she'd been the one to pick it out yesterday.

"You do look pretty," Jesse said. "I got sidetracked before."

His mouth quirked slightly, and we both relaxed. Despite its rocky beginning, the night was looking up.

BECAUSE I WAS SECRETLY an 80-year-old woman, I was ready to head out by nine and get into my pajamas to watch Buffy. I was halfway through season two, which was one of my favorites.

"Fine, fine. But lame ," Lauren whined when I said I was going to get going.

" You are free to bar hop to your heart's content, Laur. In fact, you and Jeremy should most definitely go to that new wine bar, Crescent Moon. I hear it's great." I shot her my most innocent smile, and she gave me crazy eyes.

"You hear it's great? From whom, Sam? Everyone you know is here."

"My many customers. They are chatty. Now, go and let me be boring."

"Sam, a pleasure," Jeremy said, looking pleased before he followed Lauren to go close their tabs.

"Why must you encourage that?" Jesse sighed.

"Because it's a good thing. Promise."

"I guess I have no choice but to believe you now. Did Jer's people tell you that?" he teased lightly.

" No , my eyes told me that. Plus, I don't read people unless they ask. So, Mitchell earlier... that was probably not the most ethical thing I've ever done. But to be fair..."

"He was a dick."

"Right," I agreed, scrunching my nose and hopping off the barstool to pay my tab.

"I already got you." I stopped to look at him, but he wouldn't make eye contact.

Instead, his hand brushed the small of my back to guide me toward the door and out of the low-key buzz of a small-town Friday night. I loved the fall chill in the air, but a jacket instead of a cardigan probably would have been a better idea.

Before I'd even completed the thought, Jesse's zip-up hoodie was being held out in front of me. It was one of the new ones with the logo I'd designed on the front. He must have rush-ordered them to get them that fast. A flicker of static made its way from my heart to my throat because this was the exact feeling his usual energy gave me, and having it happen outside of my mind was making my brain fuzzy.

"Sweet hoodie," I said, admiring the logo as we stood in front of The Bar.

"Thanks. I scammed this super-talented designer into working with me in exchange for installing some software on her computer. It was criminal how much better my end of the deal was." He smirked down at me, and I bumped him with my hip.

"Can I drive you home?" His tone was hopeful, and while I felt okay, that Witch's Brew had been stronger than I expected.

"Yeah, actually, that would be great."

Just a ride. It's not like you're inviting him in.

I felt the pressure of his fingertips at my lower back again as he gestured to where he was parked, and I shivered, pulling the hoodie tighter around me to play it off like it was the cold. He opened the passenger side door without even a trace of irony before he got in and started on the way to my aunt's.

"So... what you did at the bar with Mitchell..." This conversation was going to kill my buzz.

"Is there a question hidden in there that I'm supposed to decipher?" I asked, hoping my joke might take the slightly awed look off of Jesse's face.

When people first saw what I could do... actually do, not just making moon water or carving things into candles, they tended to either want to know everything, which was a little exhausting, or immediately close up and be afraid I'd read their mind at any moment.

"Sorry. I don't know. It was kind of surprising. Even though I know you are a witch, and you do witchy things. I've never seen you do that . Can you just read everyone that way?"

I expected that question, but he sounded genuinely curious and not afraid I'd hear all his thoughts.

"Am I capable of reading most people that way? If they let me, probably. It's not like Snape in Harry Potter, where I can just legilimens my way into someone's mind. Someone's people can give me information that is in their best interest to know. Their guides or ancestors or whoever is hanging around wouldn't tell me something to the detriment of the person, if that makes sense. It is only to help."

Jesse nodded and opened his mouth like he was ready to spit out more questions, but I held up my hand gently. This wasn't my first rodeo, and I wanted to give my standard spiel to cut down on the back and forth.

"In public, I shield myself from other people's energy most of the time just as a necessary habit, and even if I didn't, most people have a vibe if they aren't open to any type of energy work. So no, I don't walk around bombarded with information about strangers." I shifted in the seat of the truck, hoping we could just let this go with a summary.

"That's... that's fucking cool, Sam. I wish I had a more eloquent way to say it. Honestly, I felt like time stopped when you were telling him all that stuff in the bar. I don't want to play twenty questions or anything. Well, I do, but I don't want you to have to answer twenty questions," he added, shooting me an apologetic glance. "But I would love to know more about... well, just you, I guess. Sometime. Not all right now. I want to give you a chance to make a slideshow or some sort of posters, visual aids."

I laughed, amazed at the way he could diffuse just about any amount of tension. The way he'd been looking at me before had raised the temperature in the truck about fifteen degrees.

"Thank you... for not playing twenty questions. I'll think about the visual aids. Those might be helpful—a pamphlet or brochure. And thanks for the ride home."

I put my hand on the door to escape the car because it was becoming difficult to ignore the something between us, and I just couldn't. His door opened, and he was around to my side, holding out a hand to help me down from the cab and shutting the door behind me. He was close enough for me to see the stubble along his jawline and feel the warmth coming off his body.

He pressed even closer, my back now up against his truck, the metal a sharp contrast in temperature against my skin.

"About what Mitchell said at the bar... before you turned his world upside down."

This is not what I want to be talking about with you this close to me, you complete idiot.

"You really don't need to say anything, Jesse. Honestly, it's a tale as old as time- girl rejects man, man angry, man insults girl... it's a whole cliché."

"Mmmm, I get that. And I know you know you're gorgeous. Though, if you need to hear it more, I'll tell you." His voice had dropped the playful tone I'd gotten used to over the past couple of weeks. I felt literally weak in the knees as he spoke. "However, I meant what he said about me , not about you."

I wracked my brain for what the guy had said about Jesse and somehow missed him leaning down and caging me in. All other sounds died out except for my now stuttering heartbeat and his voice low in my ear.

"I can assure you that regardless of my knee, I am perfectly capable of throwing you over my shoulder and taking you back to the captain's quarters aboard my pirate ship. Just as well as any of those shirtless men in—"

"Oh my god," I groaned loudly, my brain slowly clearing the fog from him being that close to comprehend that he was going on about that stupid pirate book.

He was laughing, but he hadn't stepped away from me, and I could feel the vibrations of it in my chest. I was going to punch him. "Good NIGHT , Jesse," I said, scowling and attempting to duck under his arm, prepared to stomp my way to the guest house.

His reflexes were faster than mine, though, his hand dropping to my hip to stop me. I looked up at him, annoyed but also trying to breathe normally after the rollercoaster he'd just put me through. His free hand reached up, his thumb first tracing down my jaw, fingers now resting wide across my neck, and all intake of oxygen ceased.

"I was not supposed to do anything impulsive tonight, Sam," he murmured, his lips barely an inch from mine. I still couldn't breathe. This moment was hanging on by a thread, and even a slight exhale might prove too much.

"Are you going to, anyway?" I whispered.

He only hesitated for a second, searching my eyes—for what? I wasn't sure, but it seemed like he found it. In the next breath, his lips crashed to mine, his hand moving from my neck to tangle itself in my hair. With purpose, his tongue traced my bottom lip, and I hurriedly let him in. His kiss felt desperate, and I didn't care. I skimmed my fingers up the muscles of his back and pulled him in even tighter, needing to feel him pressed against me. He hummed slightly against my mouth at that, and I responded by pulling his lip between my teeth. His hands were everywhere, and my skin was on fire—his thumb traced my ribs, his fingers dug into my love handles like they were the very literal definition of that term. I never wanted him to stop touching me. He pressed open-mouthed kisses below my ear and down my neck to my collarbone, and I tried to take in a steadying breath.

The porch light outside of Zin's front door suddenly blazed to life, snapping me out of the haze that was kissing Jesse Garrett.

"Shit," I muttered.

The light was on a timer for 9:30, and I wasn't worried about my aunt "catching" me, anyway. It was just enough of a shift for me to press pause.

He pulled back after I'd sworn, a mixture of desire and fear swirling around in his eyes.

"I'm sorry...I should have asked if this was okay—"

"Jesse, you're fine. This is... better than fine. Just, the light came on, and I realized we're standing outside my aunt's house, and I don't know what is... I just don't know. I need a minute."

My hands were gripping his biceps by this time, and I had to force each of my fingers to let go, when what I really wanted was to tighten my hold and pull him back into me.